Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 66503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
While he fishes some supplies out of the back of the car we picked up from his old house, I go inside. A strange, musty smell permeates the living room, and it makes me pause to sniff where it’s coming from. Did I leave something open on the kitchen counter? How? There wasn’t much food, to begin with. What we had was left from past vacations.
But it doesn’t smell like food either … it smells like … unwashed ass.
Suddenly, something shuffles near the stove.
My eyes widen, and I pick up a nearby candleholder and raise it over my head as a weapon.
My heart rate picks up speed as I approach whatever is making the sound in the corner. It sounds like a rat, scurrying across the floor, searching for scraps. But the closer I get, the bigger it becomes. And when a pair of pants come into view, I know for sure.
It’s human.
I shriek.
A head rises. Two eyes meet mine.
Someone bursts in through the door behind me. “Aurora?!”
“Papa?!” I yell.
My father is looking at me with widened eyes as though he’s as surprised as I am that he’s here in this house.
Beast clutches my shoulders and pushes me aside, ready to attack, but I grab his arm, barely able to hold him back. “No, no, don’t.”
“You?!” Beast growls out loud.
My father slowly comes to a rise, his hands still covered in the crumbs of the crackers he found in one of the bottom drawers.
“What are you doing here?” Beast snarls at him.
My father stares at both of us, raising his brows in a demeaning manner. “I could ask you two the same thing. This is my beach house.” He eyes me up and down. “What are you trying to do? Pummel me with a candle?” He snorts.
“I thought you were one of Lex’s men,” I say, quickly lowering the holder. “I didn’t know it was you down there. What are you even doing here?” I mutter, completely taken aback.
“What does it look like?” He pats his hands on his pants. “Trying to find some food and shelter. Obviously, it’s too late, it seems. Goddammit. Of course, even my last hideout goes up in smoke.”
Beast still marches toward him, escaping my grasp, and grabs him by the collar. “Did you bring them here?”
“Who?” my father splutters.
“Lex’s guards!” Beast grits.
“No, of course not,” my father retorts. “I’m not Aurora. I actually keep an eye out on my surroundings.”
Why does he always have to turn everything into an insult?
Beast releases his collar and shoves him down on the floor.
“Jesus Christ,” my father says, coughing.
I quickly go to my knees in front of him and check him for wounds, but my father only has eyes for Beast.
“Where the hell are your manners, you animal!?” my father growls.
“Manners?” Beast sneers back, making a fist. “You are the last person on this planet to know what they are.”
“I beg your pardon?” My father’s brows draw together. “You literally tried to kill my daughter and me several times!”
“You didn’t care if she died as long as it saved your ass!” Beast roars, getting up in his face.
I push back both of them with a hand on their chests, separating them as best as I can. “Please, guys.”
But I don’t seem to be getting through to either of them. Their eyes are homed in on each other as if they plan to throw knives at each other’s throats. Beast glances at the kitchen drawer that contains them.
“Beast,” I hiss as I get up to block the drawer. “Don’t.”
“How did you find us?” he snarls at my father.
“I didn’t even know you two would be here,” my father replies.
Of course, he wasn’t looking for me.
But why does this admission still sting deep inside my heart?
“Why are you even here?” he asks.
“This was the only safe place I could think of,” I say.
“Well, it’s not safe with him here,” my father balks, throwing daggers at Beast with his eyes.
Beast lunges forward and grabs my father by the collar again, spitting in his face, “You’re the reason she’s been suffering all this time!”
“Beast!” I yell, pushing him away. “Stop.”
His eyes find mine in the dark, a glimmer of hope flashing through. “I would rip out his tongue and feed it to him just for hurting you.”
Tears well up in my eyes, but I swallow them back down. “I know.”
His nostrils flare, and for a moment, I worry he might actually go through with it. But then he drops my father to the floor and marches to the living room, where he sits down on the couch, seething with rage.
I thank him with my eyes and take in a deep breath, then focus on my father.
“Thank you,” he mutters.
“Yeah, don’t,” I reply, helping him up from the floor.
“What?”
“Thank me,” I reply.
He throws me a damning look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”